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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787255">the future is ours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre'>coupe_de_foudre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Time Travel, What do I even tag this as??, no beta we die like men, s1 Ian has a glimpse at post-s10 Ian and Mickey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:01:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a gold ring on Mickey’s left hand.</p><p>On his ring finger.</p><p> <em>Are they…no…they can’t be. Can they? </em></p><p>Only, yes, they can because there’s a matching ring on Ian’s hand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the future is ours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I said I wanted to start writing for gallavich and somebody on <a href="https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> sent the prompt:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>'I have always loved time travel fanfics. Maybe this one could be about the freckled puppy-eyed Ian from s1 travels in time to post s10 and gets blown away by how things went.'</em></p><p> </p><p>...hopefully this is what you had in mind?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ian wakes, what feels like, only a few hours after Mickey snuck out.</p><p>He’s in his own bed. He’s still wearing the same clothes he drifted off in. Yet, somehow, something feels different.</p><p>Blinking his eyes open, the first thing Ian notices is that it’s light outside, the sun just slowly dying and tinging the sky a fiery red. Weird, considering it was long gone midnight last he remembers.</p><p>The house is quiet too, which is just not right. Where is everyone?</p><p>He rolls out of bed, scanning the room. It seems the same, he thinks, maybe there’s a few things scattered here and there that he doesn’t recognise; like the pair of ripped black jeans hanging over the edge of the bed, the pile of comics in the corner, the rucksack shoved under Liam’s bed.</p><p>He’s about to investigate them further, when a vaguely familiar voice echoes through the house.</p><p>“Fuck! Again with the eggs?” It might sound deeper, rougher maybe, but Ian would recognise that voice anywhere. That’s Mickey.</p><p>What’s Mickey doing here?</p><p>Following the sound, Ian creeps downstairs, glancing in every open door on the way and frowning when he still finds nobody else lurking in the house. He’s about to call out to Mickey when the front door is ripped open, and in bundles somebody, face covered by the hood of their jacket that’s soaked in rain.</p><p>Ian doesn’t even get the chance to think about opening his mouth this time, though. Not when the person tugs down their hood and he’s met with a very, <em>very </em>familiar face. His hair is lighter, he’s a hell of a lot taller, and he’s gained more muscle than Ian could hope for, but that is still unmistakably himself standing in the doorway.</p><p>Ian is looking at himself.</p><p>Only…he’s older?</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is going on?!</em>
</p><p>The other Ian (other Ian, seriously, what sort of sick joke is this?) doesn’t even pay notice to the person standing on the stairs. Instead, he throws his jacket over a hook, runs a hand through his damp hair, and heads in the direction of the kitchen.</p><p>Ian, naturally, follows himself – making sure to keep to the shadows. As much as he’d love to bound downstairs and demand to know what the fuck is going on, Ian has watched enough Sci-Fi movies to know that, if (and that’s a strong <em>if</em>) this is some freaky time travel shit then he should avoid his future self like the plague.</p><p>The last thing he needs to be doing is screwing up his own timeline, or whatever fancy name it has.</p><p>Luckily, he knows this house like the back of his hand.  </p><p>Peeking around the corner to the kitchen, Ian can’t tell if he’s surprised or not to actually find Mickey standing by the oven. Only, like himself, Mickey is older now.</p><p>And, wow, okay so older Mickey is <em>hot</em>. He’s all neatly cut hair, well-toned muscles, a couple inches taller – that, combined with his captivating blue eyes and gorgeous smirk and the fact he’s wearing some old, grey-white tank top and low hanging sweats, is seriously a memory Ian needs to keep forever.</p><p>“You’re early.” Mickey grumbles to other Ian, as he glances up from the pan he’s watching. It looks like he’s frying eggs? Ian can’t quite believe that he’s witnessing Mickey Milkovich cook.</p><p>Other Ian pouts, sliding up behind Mickey and wrapping his arms around his waist. He rests his chin on his shoulder, burying his face into the crook of his neck, and lets out a content hum. “Am I not allowed to be early?”</p><p>Mickey rolls his eyes, shooing him away. “Gross. You’re all fucking wet.”</p><p>Other Ian smirks, shaking his wet hair over Mickey. “It’s called rain, you idiot. If you went outside, you’d understand.”</p><p>Mickey shoves at his shoulder, but other Ian catches his hand in his own before he can pull away, bringing it up to his lip to brush a kiss over Mickey’s knuckles.</p><p>It’s then, that Ian realises something huge. Like, huger than the fact that he’s staring at some future version of himself and Mickey. Even huger than the fact that, apparently, he’s still with Mickey in the years to come.</p><p>There’s a gold ring on Mickey’s left hand.</p><p>On his ring finger.</p><p>
  <em>Are they…no…they can’t be. Can they? </em>
</p><p>Only, yes, they can because there’s a matching ring on Ian’s hand.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck…they get married!</em>
</p><p> “If these eggs burn, you’re cooking dinner for the rest of the week.” Mickey warns other Ian, narrowing his eyes at him. Ian just shrugs, grabbing at Mickey’s hips and pulling him forward until they’re chest to chest, Mickey blinking up at him.</p><p>Ian can’t help but feel smug over the height difference between him and Mickey, as he watches them.</p><p>“Gallagher, I swear to-” Mickey doesn’t get to finish his threat because he’s cut off by older Ian as he leans down, fingers hooked under Mickey’s chin to tilt his face upwards an inch, and captures his lips in a sweet kiss. Mickey melts into it, arms wrapping around Ian’s neck – spatula still in hand – and somebody moans softly, only just audible over the sound of the sizzling pan.</p><p>Ian feels suddenly weird, watching himself kiss Mickey. It feels like he’s intruding on something private, something intimate meant just for them – which sounds stupid, really, since it’s <em>him </em>over there kissing Mickey.</p><p>Still, he feels like he should leave them to it.</p><p>Especially when other Ian spins them around and presses Mickey up against the counter, reaching a hand out to turn the heat under the pan off, and deepens the kiss.</p><p>Feeling oddly lighter, a new warmth in his chest, Ian quietly tiptoes his way back up the stairs.</p><p>He slides back under the covers of the bed he emerged from, eyes suddenly feeling heavy with sleep, and can just faintly hear the low chuckles of his future self and future Mickey drifting their way upstairs. He falls asleep, cocooned in a warming calm that he’s never felt before, hopeful wishes of what’s to come fleeting through his mind.</p><p>When he wakes again, it’s barely 6am and his brothers are back in their own beds, everything seemingly back as it was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've never written for these two before so it's obviously ooc. any feedback would be great! I'd love to write more gallavich because I adore this ship with my whole dumb gay heart.</p><p>also, time travel is a first for me so...sorry if this sucked :/</p><p>tysm for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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